Inhibitions and Insecurity
by SaintOfTheStep
Summary: It's a late night at the SBPD for Juliet. The last thing she expects is for Lassiter to stumble in, drunk and wearing his heart on his sleeve.


So this is a one-shot heavily based off of a spontaneous roleplay me and my good friend wrote together. It started off lighthearted last night, but this morning I was feeling extremely upset. You wouldn't believe how therapeutic it is to roleplay a character and have them express your feelings for you; especially when those feelings could more or less be canon for the aforementioned character anyway. Jules and Lassie might be a little bit OOC, but I personally don't think so.

I added in quite a bit of this, to fill in the gaps between when my friend went to bed and this morning - the entire scene with Buzz is mine, for example. And most of Lassiter's emotional confession is mine, based off of what I was feeling when the roleplaying continued this morning (in our roleplay, he didn't give the confession, it was just implied).

So yeah. There is something that is more or less a mild implication of suicidal thoughts, but nothing too bad. Could be read as Juliet/Lassie, though it was originally meant as a friendship fic. Enjoy the read!

 _ **-v-v-v-v-v-**_

It was twelve minutes after 10 PM on a Friday night, and the Santa Barbara Police Department had fallen into a lull. Detective Juliet O'Hara was working late, and the few police officers and profilers still at work didn't pay her much mind. Nor did she pay them much attention either; they all had work to do, and then homes to get back to.

Detective Carlton Lassiter, however, was neither working nor at home.

Juliet discovered this when the sound of a chair dragging across the floor jarred her from her thoughts, and she looked up just in time to see Lassiter place the chair off to the side of her desk, with the back facing toward her. As she watched him straddle the chair and sit down with his legs to either side, head resting on the back of the chair to look at her, she noted that he appeared… off.

Lassiter was quiet for a long moment before stating matter-of-factly, his voice very slightly slurred, "The spirits tell me that no one's complimented you today, and they think that's an enormous travesty. As such - you are beautiful and an absolute ray of sunshine."

There was a long moment of silence as Juliet stared at Lassiter, confused. Either Lassiter had been possessed with Shawn's consciousness, or he was feeling unwell in one way or another. The latter sounded much more likely. She gave him an uncertain smile. "Thank you. I… don't think anyone has complimented me today, no. But... why are you talking to spirits?"

Lassiter frowned, propping his elbows on the back of the chair and resting his chin on one hand. He didn't seem to have heard her question; or perhaps he wasn't entirely sure of the answer himself. "That's a tragedy. You should be complimented at least seven times a day."

Before Juliet - beginning to feel quite concerned - responded to her partner, she carefully sent a text under the desk to Shawn.

 **Shawn, what did you do to Lassiter? - J.**

It was worth at least asking him, just to make sure he hadn't… Juliet wasn't sure what he could have done, actually. The text was sent already though, so she slipped her phone back into her purse, looking back at Lassiter. He had stood up again and was staring at the floor, lost in thought. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked gently. "Maybe you should sit down and eat something."

"No, I'm not, actually," he replied offhandedly to her question, surprising her with the open admission to not feeling okay. Lassiter rarely admitted things like that. He glanced sideways at her. "Must I eat something?"

Now it was Juliet's turn to frown, worried. "Well… maybe you should." She offered another smile.

"Mm." Lassiter sat down again, this time sideways so that both of his legs were on the same side of the chair. "I'll eat later." He was quiet for a few minutes, staring at his hands, and then remarked dourly, "You know, the Department should never have hired Spencer. He's messed everything up."

Juliet did not at all agree; but Lassiter was clearly upset over… well, something. So while she didn't respond to what she said, she patted Lassiter awkwardly on the back, uncertain of how much physical contact he would find comforting and how much he would find as an invasion of his space.

When his only response was to sigh quietly but morosely, she stood up and made her way over to the coffee machine. After she had two cups of coffee made, she brought them back to her desk. At some point while she was gone, Lassiter had turned his chair around so that it was facing the desk.

Juliet sat back down and carefully pushed a cup of coffee towards Lassiter, silently questioning whether he wanted it or not. In response, he reached out with one hand and carefully tugged the cup back towards himself.

Instead of drinking it, he stared into the dark depths. Juliet noted that his shoulders were hunched; something odd to see, considering how professional her partner was at all times (and that included posture). She started to ask what was wrong, unable to bear not knowing why he was acting so uncharacteristically; but then he spoke up again.

"I haven't talked to any spirits," he said, suddenly responding to her earlier question. "There are no such thing. But you still deserve compliments." He looked up from his coffee, blinking at her.

Juliet blinked back at him, mildly stunned. Her cheeks warmed, and she opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again, unsure of exactly what the correct response could be. Then she decided to ask the question she had wanted to ask since Lassiter showed up. "Carlton, were you at the bar again...?" she queried softly.

Lassiter paused for a few moments, seeming to seriously consider her question despite how straightforward it had been. "... maybe." He shifted in his chair, ducking his head to take a quick sip of his coffee before adding defensively, "But I'm an adult man and I have the right to a few drinks now and again."

Juliet nodded slightly. "Yes, I know you are. But maybe you shouldn't talk after those drinks."

"Why not?" Lassiter furrowed his brow, his expression a combination of genuine bewilderment and offence. "I'm perfectly literate."

"A little _too_ literate, maybe..." Juliet suggested, then winced inwardly as she realised how that may have come across as insulting.

Lassiter tilted his head, blinking up at the ceiling for a moment, before looking back at Juliet. "Thanks, I take that as a compliment." He paused for a moment. "Y'know, I considered getting a job as a journalist for a while..." He frowned. "Quickly decided that was a bad idea."

"I think that was probably a good choice," Juliet agreed, mildly amused at the thought despite her concern for Lassiter.

"Yeahhh, a corrupt bunch, the lot of 'em..." Lassiter ran a hand through his hair, and then focused on Juliet's face again, blinking. "Have I ever told you that you have pretty eyes?"

Juliet blinked as well, staring at her partner. Were these things he thought while sober and just didn't have the courage to say, or was he just rambling without really thinking...? She wasn't quite sure which she preferred. "Um, thank you... Carlton, I really think you should drink a little more coffee."

He stared down at his cup, which was still nearly completely full of coffee, before taking another sip. He didn't look away from Juliet, still watching her with a pensive expression on his face.

Juliet stared down at her own coffee solely so she could avoid having to awkwardly stare back at Lassiter. Eventually, she looked up and said, "You know, I think I have some paperwork I should do."

Lassiter blinked, finally breaking the slightly dazed blue stare. "Yeah. Okay. Yeah, you should do that. I'm just gonna..." He braced his hands against the edge of the desk and stood up. "Get some more scotch..." He took one step forward and proceeded to fall over. He didn't stand up right away, instead just lying there and shifting his weight slightly.

Juliet flinched, heart rate spiking for a moment. "Carlton!" She sighed and hurried to the other side of the desk to help him to his feet. "You should probably go home..."

"No, 'm fine," Lassiter replied, the slur in his voice a little more noticeable for a minute. He shook his head slightly and straightened up.

"Are you sure? You really don't look fine," Juliet pointed out, still not quite sure she should risk letting go of his arm just yet - she didn't want him to fall and hit his head.

He squinted down at her, and at first she thought he was going to pay her yet another flattering but blush-inducing compliment. Instead, he said, "I don't? What's wrong?" He glanced down at his own feet. "Did I put on mismatched socks again... I hate it when I leave the house like that..."

"What?" Juliet frowned, dumbfounded. "No, it's... not your socks. You're just not... acting like yourself."

"Oh." Lassiter uttered the one syllable and fell silent for at least a minute before speaking again, his voice a little quieter and a little more subdued. "Well, one more drink down at the bar, and I'll hit the road... hey." His face brightened a little bit. "Juliet, do you want a drink?"

Juliet managed a smile. The offer was flattering, but it was honestly not something she wanted to do. "No, thank you, Carlton. I think I'm good."

His face fell, almost imperceptibly, but then he nodded slightly. "Okay. Good. I'll see you tomorrow, probably." He carefully removed his arm from her grasp, and made his way toward the door.

"Right. Good." Juliet nodded firmly. "See you tomorrow."

Lassiter disappeared around the corner, and just as he did, Juliet realised something - it was not a good idea to let him drive home, in the dark, while as tipsy as he was. "Wait, no. Carlton!" She hurried after him, and opened the door just in time to see him reach his car, attempt to open the door, and promptly fall over again.

"Carlton!" She ran across the parking lot and knelt down next to him with a sigh. "Carlton..." She tried to help him to his feet only to be met with complete dead weight. "What-" She managed to roll him over and discovered he had passed out. She sighed again, pushing some stray hair away from her face.

"Detective O'Hara? Is everything okay?"

She looked up. Officer Buzz McNab stood a few feet away. "No, Buzz... Lassiter went out drinking tonight, I guess, and he's drunk enough that he came out here and immediately passed out." She glanced down at Lassiter again. "I think something upset him. He's never this careless."

McNab frowned and crouched down next to her. "Yeah... I'd take him home with me and let him crash on my sofa, except I'm in the process of moving. There isn't really anywhere to sleep except the futon I'm using as a bed right now."

"Hmm." Juliet thought for a minute. "I can't take him back to my place with me. I don't think he'd ever forgive me, due to how it would look to anyone who saw it. Our reputations as upstanding members of the police force and all that..." After a few minutes more of thinking, she sighed for what felt like the millionth time this evening. "Okay, maybe we should just bring him back into the police station and let him crash on one of the sofas in the break room until he wakes up."

McNab nodded and - looking rather as though he expected to be harshly reprimanded by the head detective at any second - awkwardly dragged Lassiter to a standing position and draped the man over his shoulders in order to carry him back inside the police station and into the break room. Juliet followed behind.

It was decided between she and McNab - the only people still in the Department - that she would stay the night, just to make sure Lassiter didn't cause trouble during the night. If anyone expressed suspicion, the fact that they were in the police station would make it easier to explain things.

Before long, she had locked the police department up and was holed away inside with nothing but her thoughts and the unconscious detective in the break room to keep her company.

 _ **-v-v-v-v-v-**_

It was about 6am when something awakened Juliet from a more or less deep sleep. She sat up sharply, disoriented and wondering where she was before she remembered - she had fallen asleep at her desk, in the police department. The lights were on - she had shut them off at some point during the night, except for her desk lamp, so clearly someone had turned them back on.

She looked around to see what had roused her, and saw a familiarly tall form slowly walking out of the break room, slightly unsteady on their feet with rumpled clothing and tousled hair.

"Good morning," Juliet offered. She yawned, stretched, and made a beeline for the coffee machine.

There was no response from Lassiter; he remained silent the entire time she stood at the coffee machine. When she turned around, he was sitting at his own desk, head in his hands.

Juliet hesitated, then walked over and placed the two mugs of coffee next to him. She pulled a chair across the room and sat down next to him, taking her cup of coffee from the desk. "Carlton?"

He still didn't respond, nor did he lift his head.

With a look around the department, Juliet realised that she only had a short while alone with her partner before people began arriving for work. So if she wanted to try one last time to get some answers, it had to be now. "Carlton, are you okay? Do you want to talk about last night?" she prodded gently.

He finally picked his head up and looked at her. The shadows that were always present under his eyes seemed darker, and his face haggard, as though the happenings of the night before had sapped him of every last scrap of energy. "I can't do it. I can't do it anymore."

"Do what?" Juliet tried to keep her voice light and gentle at the same time, despite her worry.

"Any of this." Lassiter's voice sounded as weary as he looked. "My job, my personal life, the fact I work as often and as hard as I can as a distraction. None of it. Spencer is a better detective than I am at this point. And no matter how hard I try to fix everything between me and my wife, nothing changes." He raked trembling hands through his hair, then dragged them tiredly down his face until they both rested palm-down on the desktop.

Juliet shifted in her seat, holding her coffee with both hands. "Carlton, you're a great detective. Also, I don't think the chief would have put you in the position you're in if she didn't think so too."

Lassiter shook his head. "She put me in this position before Spencer showed up. If he actually worked officially for the Department..." He trailed off, making an irritated sound. "You know, my dad would always push me. To be perfect, to be the best. If I ever failed his expectations, he'd make sure I knew that that meant I was just that - a failure. That unless I could do everything 100% perfectly, then whatever I did or said didn't matter, and neither did I." The words came out from between a set jaw, and he avoided her eyes, staring intently down at his coffee.

A heavy silence fell upon the room like a black blanket, and Juliet struggled to get over how stunned she was. She hadn't expected this. "That's not true, Carlton."

"Yeah." He scoffed and rolled his eyes; then winced, kneading his temples with both hands. He reached into one of his desk drawers, withdrew a bottle of aspirin, and took a few, washing them down with coffee.

"It's not," Juliet repeated firmly.

"Yeah, it is. I'm not cut out to even be on the police force anymore, let alone be a detective. And I should just stop pining after Victoria. She's made it quite clear that nothing I do will mend the damage I did." Lassiter leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. Almost as an afterthought, he murmured again, almost too quiet to hear, "I can't do it anymore."

Now her worry began to show. "Carlton, your father was wrong, and you do matter," she said, her voice cracking a little.

There was a heartbeat in which no one spoke, and then Lassiter slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and glancing over at Juliet. He studied her for a long moment, and she swore she could see gratitude mixing with the bitterness and resignation. He scoffed again, but this time it was lighter, and was followed by a very small smile that vanished almost as soon as it had appeared. "I'll live, probably. Don't worry, O'Hara."

She pursed her lips for a second, swallowing against the knot in her throat. "You'd better live, okay?" She gave him what she hoped was a stern look that didn't reveal just how much she needed him to live.

He chuckled quietly. "Okay."

"Good." Juliet visibly relaxed, and took a long drink of her coffee, trying to still her trembling hands. She peered at Lassiter. He had one elbow on the desk, and his cheek rested atop one loosely clenched fist. He was watching her; his eyes betrayed what could only be described as a whirlwind of emotion, and he looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn't quite find the words.

So Juliet spoke instead. "The police force would crumble without you, Carlton."

"Heh." He laughed. It was a short laugh, and one that held a good amount of disbelief - but also a hint of his usual pride. "I guess so."

Another long silence fell as people began to arrive for work. A few police officers glanced towards Juliet and Lassiter with varying levels of curiosity, but said nothing. Lassiter attempted to smooth his rumpled suit and get his hair back to some degree of tameness, but he was nowhere near as hurried or flustered as he normally would be, Juliet noted.

Then he looked at her again, and while his eyes still hinted at how hopeless he felt, they were a little brighter. "Thanks, Jules."

She was a little taken aback at his usage of a nickname that, so far, was only used by family and Shawn, but responded with a genuine smile. "You're welcome."

A flicker of movement caught her eye. Chief Vick had arrived. Her eyes fell upon Lassiter and Juliet from across the room, and she made a motion that indicated she wanted to see them in her office.

Juliet looked back at Lassiter, who had also seen the chief's hand gesture but seemed a little more uncertain - Juliet suspected he was still doubting his own ability to be a good detective.

Still smiling, she poked him in the shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. It worked; he glanced quickly back at her, and she raised an eyebrow. "Now, stop beating yourself up. We have cases to solve, don't we?"

Lassiter hesitated, his eyes flickering back and forth between her own eyes. And then he nodded. "Right, yeah." He turned away and downed the rest of his coffee before standing up, looking back at her again. "Yeah, we do." His shoulders were squared again - no longer hunched. "Let's go."

He offered his hand to help her out of the chair, and while she didn't really need help, she accepted the kind gesture, still smiling. He exchanged a glance with her after letting go of her hand, and then returned the smile - his was a little less bright, but it was genuine.

Then the two of them made their way back to the chief's office, ready to take on whatever new adventure she had in store.


End file.
